Fix You
by Troypayisbetter
Summary: Something was wrong with Sam. He was distant. Quiet. And afraid to go home. John just found out why.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own the Lorien Legacies series, or I am Number 4. It belongs to Hollywood and Harper Collins Publishers/ Pittacus Lore. **

Fix You

John had always known, from their first meeting, that something was off in Sam. He was different than every teenager he had ever met in all the schools that he had gone to. He kept to himself. He was quiet. He had almost no friends. But then, as days progressed into weeks, he began to notice things…things that made him question what was happening to Sam behind closed doors. And he began to notice things that he hadn't before.

He began to notice, for instance, that his movements were slow and calculated in everything he did—as though he mulled them over before he did anything, weighing the outcomes. His voice was weak and quiet in every situation, and he sounded like he was in a library no matter where he was, be it a class or a football game. But the thing that got him the most was his fear.

Whenever he or Sarah suggested that they go and do something at his house, his eyes clouded with fear and his voice wavered, growing weaker with every sentence. And there were always excuses. The kitchen was being redone. His mom was sick. His father wouldn't be home untill late. And it began to dawn on him that something was wrong. And so his plan was formulated. And that plan was what brought him to Sam's house tonight, hidden behind the shrubs.

It was a cold night, and John shivered again, pulling his hoodie closer to his body. The damp air was making him feel like he had to cough, and the milky fog coating the ground made the forest around the outskirts of the property look more eerie than usual. He wondered, for a moment if Mogadorians were hiding in the trees but he shook his head at his stupidity. And then he heard it: the sound of breaking glass and the raised voices.

Clenching his fists, he slowly slunk across the yard, drawing closer to the dirt covered siding. The window to the right of him was on; throwing a beam of light onto the yard and it was through this that he looked in to see what was happening. Sam and his step-father were in the dining room, standing around the table and their bodies rigid. Sam was gripping onto the chair in front of him, his knuckles white and a scowl gracing his face. His step-father was hunched over the table, his face red as he screamed, finger pointing directly at Sam. John noticed the empty beer cans crowded around the table. He glanced down to his palms to see them glowing softly.

And then he almost jumped through the wall. Sam's head had whipped to the left at his step-fathers heavy hand. He heard Sam's cry—loud with his specialized hearing. And then Sam was being pushed into the wall and the punches were falling into his stomach and his face. And all the while, Sam whimpered but didn't fight back. And that hurt him more. He wanted to jump through the wall and throw that son of a bitch through the wall. He wanted to beat him like he was beating Sam. He wanted to kill him. After a while, Sam was thrown on the floor and kicked a few times in the chest, his step-dad grunting each time his foot connected with Sam's gut. And then, after slamming his heel down onto Sam's wrist, he left, the door slamming behind him.

He waited untill the pickup truck pulled out of the gravel driveway and headed off toward town, and he hoped that he crashed his car and died on the way in a fire-y ball of flame. Turning back he peered into the house again, his eyes resting on Sam. His breathing was shallow and came in soft pants, and his heart wrenched in his chest at Sam's pain. As far as he could tell, his mother wasn't home. At least, he hoped to god she wasn't. If she was and she hadn't come to Sam's defense, he'd take her out with that…asshole.

He dashed to the front of the house, pulling open the screen door as it squealed horribly in protest before throwing his weight into the door. It stuck in the frame, and it took two good pushes against it with his shoulder for it to open with a bang. The light, which had flickered on when Sam's step-dad had exited shut off with a small click but his attention was focused on Sam, who was moaning on the floor and struggling to ball up on the ground.

Rushing over he fell to his knees, his hands hovering over Sam's body, afraid to touch him lest he hurt him more. Sam cracked a swollen eye when his shadow fell over him and his eye widened in fear. Choking on his tears, he gently cradled Sam's head, his eyes roaming his body.

"Shh…it's ok Sam. I'll get you some help."

Sam looked like he would like to protest but he shut his eyes again, his head lolling.

"Sam! Don't fall asleep ok? Stay awake!" Sam cracked his eyes open, locked on his own.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was weak and strained. "You…weren't supposed to know." He shuddered in pain when John pressed into his hand a little too strongly and he pulled away quickly.

"Shh…don't talk. I'll get you out. Can you walk?" It sounded stupid as soon as he said it. "Don't answer that. Hold on."

He pulled out his phone, hitting 1 and waiting as it dialed. One ring and Henri's voice filled the room, voice panicked.

"John? What's wrong? Where are you?"

"Dad! I went to Sam's to see what was going on with him and…Dad it's bad. Sam's step-dad's been beating him and…he needs help."

"I'll be there in 4." The line went dead, and John turned back to Sam.

"Hold on Sam. Help is on the way."

Henri turned up a minute early, and John met him outside. Henri was fuming already, evident from him slamming the car door and his heavy footsteps on the gravel.

"Get in the car." He ground out, pushing through the screen door and walking straight toward the dining room. He heard Henri swear at the sight of Sam's body and John, shaking with anger and pent up anxiety and frustration, got into the back, waiting. Henri returned seconds later, carrying Sam's limp body in his arms.

He opened the side door for him, and gently cradled Sam when he was placed in his arms. Closing the door carefully, Henri slid into the driver's seat and peeled off in a cloud of dust, flying down the deserted road toward their house. The ride was long and silent, and time seemed to slow down to a crawl. He spent the time brushing Sam's hair from his eyes and whispering to him to keep him awake, but it was becoming futile. Sam was quickly seeping back into darkness.

When they arrived home, the car stopped quickly and the door was thrown open again, Henri taking Sam while he ran up to the porch and unlocked the door. Sam was placed on his bed, a washcloth resting on his forehead and John sat at the edge, looking at Sam as if he might break if his eyes looked away. Bitter tears filled his eyes. He hoped Sam would be ok. He had to be ok. Because if not, a part of him would be hurt too. Sam was important to him. His best friend and the brother he always had wanted. His body shook with anger, but Sam's slow breathing calmed him—at least for now. He'd wait until he was better. Than Sam's step-father was going to be in a world of pain.

**So. That was it! I hope you guys really like it. It didn't start out to turn into this. I had just wanted this to be a one-shot. But my characters decided that that plan wasn't going to work and they hijacked it. Anyway, thanks so much for reading this. I appreciate it because there's a lot of good stuff to read out here. Review are amazing, and they make my day. Do me a favor and hit that little button at the bottom? Tell me what you thought. :) Till next time. **

**Troypayisbetter. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! Thanks so much for the 6 reviews! That's totally amazing. I wasn't expecting 6 at all. Sorry for the hiatus but I've been on a mission trip to New Orleans all last week away from the internet and then I was catching up on work this week. There should be more regular updates now. You should thank 17, because he…I think it was a he…I'm SO sorry if you're a she…really pushed the next chapter. Your reviews really made me smile when I got them. I really hope you like this one too. Don't forget to review!**

**I do not own I am Number 4. Nor do I write Lorien Legacies. **

Fix You

It was dark, and he was alone when he awoke, his body lunging forward, grasping the empty air in front of him where his bed and Sam's limp body should lie. He whipped his head around, to see that now he was in a barren room, all alone. And it wasn't _his_ room. Something was happening. Standing slowly, he glanced around, seeing nobody. He was all alone.

Anger flared inside of him, and his lumen flashed on, brighter than the beam of light shooting through a thousand perfectly positioned diamonds. The heat scorched his skin for a second, but he felt nothing after that, as he reigned in his light. Sweeping it across the room, he saw little signs of a struggle. A poster on the wall was ripped, and dangled from the cracked wall where it had hung. A chair in the corner was on its side, missing a leg. And the sheets on the bed were crumpled and thrown about.

The door leading out of the room was flimsy, and one solid kick sent it spinning off its hinges. It slammed into the wall with a bang, and then clattered to the floor. This hallway was emptier and more barren than the room. "Henri!" He called uncertainty clouding his voice, but his hands were shaking and he willed anyone to come closer. Nobody did. He looked left and right, trying to find his bearing. All he heard was silence, even with his specialized hearing. In fact, only the occasional drip of water hitting the cold cement was the only thing that met his ears.

To his left right was a service exit, that probably led downstairs or outside. To his left…darkness. He swept his lights down the hallway, the sharp brightness cutting through the black like a knife. The cement floor was sallow. A few of the old fluorescents hung from the ceiling at angles. A few littered the ground, kicked to the side by the mysterious people that brought him there. _Where were the others?_ He jumped when he heard a noise, and flashed his lights. A door was ajar at the end of a hallway and he slowly made his way toward it. He wondered if he was the only one here. If Henri was unawares. If they had left Sam alone to sleep fitfully on his bed.

That was until he saw the shoe. It was lying on its side in a large murky pool of water. The tassels were floating peacefully. There was no current, and only when he bent low and his breath touched the water did small ripples fan out toward the edges. It was an old Vans. And he recognized it instantly. It was Sam's. He heard shuffling from the door down the hallway, and then sudden screaming. _What was happening? _

He ran down the hallway, prepared for anything. His hand had just touched the icy metal of the handle when he jolted awake.

Henri

He was scanning the papers for the fourteenth time, re-reading what he had already re-read. There was nothing in the news on any of the others. Or at least nothing he could definitely pinpoint. And Sam's parents hadn't raised any alarm with a cry that his son had disappeared.

The mere thought sent a shiver running through his spine, and he physically restrained himself from jumping up and running to his car to go kill the son of a bitch. He heard another whimper, and the gentle snoring of John from the room down the hall, and he rubbed his eyes.

John was exhibiting signs that his feelings for Sam were more than brotherly. He had heard it when he had talked about Sam over dinner. His quiet chuckles and silent musing over the boy while he eaten had made it clear that _something_ was happening. The call last night had almost solidified that. His tone when he had called had been desperate and all but screamed for relief when he saw Sam on the ground. And the way he had held him in the backseat, cradled too him as if he was protecting him from the world itself. The way he had laid Sam on his own bed. The way he now sat with him, dozing lightly, while on alert.

He held his head in his hands, covering his eyes. When they left, it'd be doubly hard on John. He'd be leaving something behind bigger than he could imagine. He was doomed no matter what.

John

He lunged forward when his eyes snapped open, sucking in the cold air surrounding him while his eyes whipped around, surveying every item in it. Just to make sure. He heard footsteps in the hallway, and knew that Henri had heard his violent awakening. He wiped his sweating forehead, clenching his fists to stop the glow from seeping out. He stared ahead as the door creaked open.

"John?"

"Henri"

"I heard you wake. Are you ok?"

He shook his head. "No. I'm not. How could…how could he do this to him?"

He heard Henri sigh behind him and he turned. "What?"

"It's the same question I asked when we were on our journey from Lorien. It's the same question I ask myself every day. And it's one you'll never truly understand…not even if Sam explains it." He leaned on the wall, and they fell into silence for a few minutes. "What did you see?"

"Nothing. It was nothing." He hated lying to Henri. But he knew that if he uttered what he had just seen, that they'd be on their way to a new home. _Where would this one be? Oklahoma? Tennessee? Alaska?_ He shuddered. The thought of leaving was too much. And he felt physical pain when he did.

"John—tell me. Please. I know you saw _something_. I felt it."

"You felt it?" What did you feel?"

Henri sighed, and his cheeks turned red. From embarrassment or heat he didn't know but he could hardly care. Finally: "The air changes when you see something. When you feel something."

He stared at Henri, before looking down at Sam. His hand had somehow wormed its way into Sam's, his fingers intertwined with Sam's cold fingers. "It was just a nightmare."

"It might not have been a nightmare!"

He stood up, glancing at Sam to tell Henri to shut-the- hell- up- and- stop- yelling. "Then what was it? And if you can _feel_ it Henri, then you should be able to get them too. Trust me though. This one was totally just a nightmare. End of story."

"No not end of story-" He froze, his eyes locked onto Sam, and he turned to see Sam stirring, his hand flexing and his swollen right eye cracking open. And then he vomited.

**So tada? It's short, but I promise the next one will be way longer. Thanks again for reading! Your comments and reviews really mean a lot, so keep writing them, and I'll start responding. And guys, while you're at it, can you check out You've Got Mail and Titanic? Well…I'm done my shameless whoring. Haha. Thanks again for reading! **

**Troypayisbetter**

**xoxo**


	3. Chapter 3

**So…here's the next chapter. Sorry this took so long. I'm going to start making regular, weekly updates on this. I know what direction I want this to go in. The only I can think of happening is the characters decide they don't like this. Haha. Thanks for reading you guys. And thanks for all your reviews. Please continue. **

**I do not own I am Number 4, the Lorien Legacies Series, nor do I own Sam, Sarah, Henri, John, and Mark. Which is so sad. I only own the situation they are involved in, and the actions they take. Because I love playing with them. **

**Fix You**

John

He cringed as the sick splattered on the floor on the other side of the room, and cringed again at the moan that Sam next uttered as he turned back over onto his back, his face screwed in pain which only aggravated his bruises more.

He and Henri waited in bated silence, both of them holding silent breath as Sam's chest heaved as he sucked in clean air, shaking as the pain and nausea swept over him. It took a few moments, during which time his breathing slowed, and his movements ceased, his body finally settling into a position more comfortable to his body. They stayed in silence again for minutes, each of them breathing slowly. Finally;

"Sam?" Sam didn't reply, he just turned his head and watched the dust particles floating and dancing in the sunlight streaming through his window. Outside, the day was shining and it looked as if nothing was wrong with the world. Everyday life was still occurring around him, even though his was unraveling.

"Sam?"

He turned, and his eyes widened in shock. A small vestige of fear clouded his eyes. He wondered if he knew at all where he was. Finally he turned his head, his eyes widening in fear when they rested first on him, and then on Henri. He tried to sit up, but winced, a small moan falling from his lips before he lay back down on the bed, tears clouding his eyes.

"Sam…what happened?"

He shook his head, and blinked, turning his head back to the ceiling.

He sat there, his hands on his knees as he leaned closer, his breath caught in his throat. "Sam..please…tell me"

He didn't look at him, instead he turned his head and stared at Henri, who was slowly shifting his feet in the doorframe, his left shoulder bumping the frame. His steel eyes met Sam's soft, broken brown ones and his heart broke again. Nodding, he turned and made his way out of the room. "I'll go into town and get those groceries."

John nodded, still dazed, watching as Henri left the room, his feet clunking down the hall. The front door was opened and then shut softly, and they both waited in silence as the car was started. John and Sam listened as the car's tires crunched over the gravel, and only after Henri left did Sam let out a sigh of relief.

"Sam?"

Sam turned and stared at him, his hands fumbling in his lap. "What?" he finally croaked.

He didn't even know where to start with his questions and he sat there in silence, listening to the wind blowing softly the leaves in the trees.

"Why?"

Sam crinkled his brow. "Why…why did he do this?"

He nodded, his mouth dry and his palms sweaty.

Sam turned his head back to the window, and closed his eyes. "It started when I was twelve. When my father vanished. My mom brought him home three months after he disappeared, when the police had finally assured us that we wouldn't find anything but bones." He paused, and took a shuddering breath.

"It got worse later on." He turned away then after a paused, shifting in pain on his bed. Clearly, the conversation was over, and there was no way he was getting any more information from him now. He knew what he needed to do. Talk to Henri.

-Later-

When Henri came in through the door, his arms laden with groceries he was sitting in an armchair, staring at the fireplace. He turned his head, craning it to watch Henri's steady, stiff movements as he put the groceries away.

It was only untill after the perishables had been put away that he leaned against the counter, his uncertainty finally showing on his face. "What did he say?"

He shook his head in frustration, palming his eyes while shaking his head. "He didn't say anything. Not really. Only that his step dad came back three months after his father left. He stopped talking after that."

Henri's hands shook. "That means whatever's trapped in his head is very bad. So bad that it hurts for him to even talk about it. I think we have a serious problem on our hands."

He nodded. "My best friend is lying helpless on my bed and I can't do anything about it. What should I do?" He wanted to kick a chair, but it would likely sail through the air and shatter against a wall.

"You'll figure it out." He nodded assuredly.

He sighed, huffing as he sat back down. And that's when he understood. She would get it out of him. She always had a way of getting almost anything out of him. And she was one of his best friends. One of Sam's best friends. He'd call her. He'd call Sarah.

**So hey guys! Updates are now going to be put up on a regular basis. So there won't be any long hiatus like there just was. Sorry about that again. I hope you liked this chapter. Please review? And if you have any suggestions or want anything, then just tell me. I'd like to see what you guys have in mind. **

**Oh, and if you haven't, can you read You've Got Mail and review? Thanks guys. Peace. **

**Troypayisbetter. **ernHenri


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! Wow…where do I start? So FF isn't sending me any notifications on reviews for my chapters, so I just now saw all the wonderful reviews that I've gotten for the last chapter! I'm really glad that you guys enjoyed the last chapter, and I hope you like this one as well. :) **

**I do not own I am Number 4 or it's characters. **

John

When Sarah answered the phone her voice was groggy, and he suddenly remembered that she had been out all night with some old friends that had stayed with her when she broke off from the main group. He had heard her sigh and yawn and the sheets on her bed shift as she sat up, and he grimaced at the shock he was going to have to give to her.

"Sarah." He said it so seriously that it scared even himself. On the other line, Sarah stopped moving.

"What? John….what's happening?" She sounded scared.

"It's Sam."

She stopped breathing and it felt like an eternity before she answered. "Sam? What's wrong with Sam?" She was getting out of bed now. He could hear her stumbling over the floor and sliding open the closet.

"I…" he sighed. "I can't explain. But he needs your help. I need your help. He's in trouble."

"Are you at your house?" She was pulling on shoes now. He could hear the laces slapping the shoes and the hard wood below.

"Yes." He sounded tired, and relieved. He wondered how scary he sounded to Sarah.

"I'll be there in a few." She hung up then, without a goodbye or signal that the conversation was over, and he stood their dumbly in the middle of the room, the dial tone beeping in his ear making him grit his teeth. His eyes were closed, his breathing coming in short pants. Sarah was coming. He would have his help.

"John? What did she say?"

Henri was leaning against the counter, sipping cold coffee with a blank expression. His eyes though, were shining and worried.

"She's coming. You better pack up all your shit and hide it somewhere. We don't want to involve her in anything we're up against. That's not right."

He nodded, sipping his coffee. "I know. Which is why I put it away half an hour ago, while you were staring at the phone." He was sipping his coffee again. "Go and check on Sam. I think he's sleeping."

Sarah

When I parked the car John was standing on the porch with a serious, frightening look on his face which turned to calm indifference when my mom stuck her head out of the car to say hello. She still thinks that I'm going to be dating him by the end of the year. Boy does she have another thing coming.

John waves, but his movements are forced and he's panicking behind his eyes and that's so scary I'm thinking about running back to the car and making my mother drive me home. But she's already pulling away with a wave, leaving me alone by myself. His hug is like a crashing wave, enveloping me and strangling me at the same time, and his hug is the scariest thing I've ever witnessed.

It's frightening, and it feels like he's holding me to try to find some safety that cannot be reached by him for the time being. I push on his chest—hard under my hands from his muscles—and stare into his eyes. "Where's Sam?"

He stares at me for a few minutes, breath shallow and eyes unfocused. A small sheen of sweat is on his forehead. He looks like he's going to be sick. "Inside. In my room." He grabs my hand tightly and pulls me inside, crossing quickly through the living room. I briefly see his father, sitting at the coffee table with a cup of coffee and I feel myself ache for a cup. I'm so exhausted.

When we get to his door, he stops, his hand hovering over the handle. "I warn you…it's not pretty." It's like he's giving me a chance to back out, but I won't. Sam's my friend too. I push past him and open the door, but recoil at what I see.

Sam's on the bed. And he's covered by big ugly bruises. It's enough to make my eyes well up with hot tears, which I try to blink away unsuccessfully. He looked so helpless and so broken and I was shaking with anger.

I whipped around, fire in my eyes. "WHO….did YOU?" I couldn't even form a sentence.

"No…no...God….no. I…went over to his house last night and got there in time to see his step-father beat him. HE did this." He had the same look I imagined I had. Making my over to the bed, I sank down onto a chair near the bed, and I tentatively reached out a hand to comfort him, though I retracted it with a frightened gasp when he whimpered in pain. "Oh Sam…."

-Later-

Sitting at the table with a hot cup of coffee and a box of tissues, I stare across at Henri, who's pretending to read the paper and drink coffee. I realize it's the same cup that he had when I got to the house, three hours ago. And it's the same cup probably, he's been sipping all day. He looks tired. More so than I. Sam is still asleep, and John is taking a shift watching him sleep just in case there's any problem or he wakes up. We don't want him to feel alone. Last time I went back to check, John was whispering to Sam, and holding his hand. It's enough to tear me up again.

The light above the table is throwing warm yellow light around the room, making everything seem happy and normal even though in reality it's a big mess. I'm just about to sip my coffee again, when John runs in, and I jump, spilling the dark liquid on the shining, rough table. I'm glad none of it hits me. I've been watching the steam curl since I got it, and I can still feel the heat coming off the cup. Henri's staring as well, the paper laying forgotten on the table.

"He's awake."

**So…tada! I hope you liked this. I'm sorry though in a way, it's not very exciting. This really just sets up the next chapter. But I promise, it'll get more exciting. Let's just say….shit hits the fan for a while after this chapter…and not all of it can be resolved immediately. ;) I hope you liked it though. Please continue to review this story, and if you wouldn't mind, check out You've Got Mail? I've only gotten 1 review for the last chapter, and I think it's the best one. :/ Anyway, I'm done whoring myself. Haha. Thanks for reading!  
**

**SapphireOceans- Thanks so much for your review! I'm really glad that you were so psyched for Sarah's entry. I hope I didn't disappoint! **

**KaoriVenna- I just love your name! Thanks so much for the review! It's so sweet. And I hope you love this chapter as well. **

**g-hope-love-life- Thanks. The last chapter was fun to write. This chapter wasn't very long, so I'm sorry, but I can say that the next one will be much longer. I promise. **

**Twilight Geek- You must have reviewed every chapter that I've written on this story, so I'm very blessed by it. Thanks. I can't believe this is one of your favorites, but I love you for it, and you really make me blush. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! Wow, what do I say? Four chapters and already 21 reviews. I'm really speechless. Thanks for making this so successful. It's really all because of you. I hope you guys enjoy the chapter, and remember to review! (Even if you aren't a member, I do take anonymous reviews too, because everyone should be able to speak their mind on any story, in my opinion). **

**I don't own I am Number 4 or its characters. **

Sarah

Jumping from the table, I quickly moved to the hallway, stopping short by the door to John's room. Realizing she needed to collect herself so that she didn't frighten Sam any more than she might if she just up and barged into his room with a flustered and wild countenance. She busied herself by straightening her skirt and shirt and fixing her loose ponytail before looking behind her. John was less than a foot away, his face grim but he was doing the same that she had just done, and when their eyes met, he nodded his encouragement.

Pushing open the door, she stopped at the threshold again, surveying Sam again. He was sitting up, a few pillows propped up behind him to keep him relaxed and comfortable. The lights in the room were open, a book that John had found in his drawer from a previous owner lay untouched under the lamp. Sam had his eyes closed, but opened them slightly when he felt her presence. His eyes only widened when he realized who was at the door.

Quick as a bolt of lightning in a summer storm, he grabbed the blanket draped over his legs and pulled it up over his right arm, looking down at the bedspread while he clenched and unclenched the sheets. He looked frightened and his breathing was shallower, small beads of sweat glistening on his forehead.

Walking into the room, she slowly lowered herself onto the chair across from the head of the bed, against the left bedside table. She never blinked, and her eyes never diverted from his body as she silently studied him.

Finally, "Sam?"

Sam didn't respond, he just looked farther down at the mattress, his hand shaking. She wondered if he was afraid of her. It sounded absurd though, he had been hanging out with her for a while now. Had acted comfortable with her recently every time they interacted. But suddenly the situation had flipped entirely, even she had to concede to that.

"Sam?" Reaching out she softly touched his right arm, but recoiled swiftly when he himself flinched. "Oh Sam…what happened to you?"

He shrugged. "Nothing."

She frowned. "This…this isn't nothing Sam. Please, tell me. I want to help."

He shook his head, the corners of his eyes glistening. "There's nothing to tell. Nothing happened."

"Sam. Stop, please. I need to know…please. I won't hurt you Sam."

"That's what _he_ says every time afterward." Sam whispered. HE looked up at her, and then past her to John. His eyes clouded and he frowned, anger filling his face. "You _promised_ you wouldn't say anything! You said it would be our secret and that you wouldn't tell her." He shook his head and lay back down onto the pillows, turning his head to the window.

"Sam…" He sounded so helpless. In a way, he was. He couldn't do anything himself untill Sam opened up and told them what happened. They had a pretty good idea, but until he admitted to what happened they wouldn't have any way to protect Sam in the long term.

"How long has she been here? How long have I been here?"

"Since Friday."

He furrowed his brow, as if trying to calculate. "Whose been here for two days? Me? Or her?"

John looked frustrated and guilty. "You have. I…I called her a few hours ago."

He shook his head. "You couldn't just leave well enough alone could you? You couldn't have just let it go when I said you guys couldn't come over could you? You had to go and meddle." He sounded frightened and furious.

"Sam…I just wanted to…" He fell short, as if he had lost all the energy in his body. Bernie Kosar bounced up onto the bed and then over to Sam, laying down next to him gingerly, pressing into his leg.

"You just wanted to what? I'll tell you what. You just wanted to be in charge of everything and act like a hot shot like you always do. You just wanted to know because you wanted to see what was so messed up with me."

He shook his head, and my eyes flicked between he and Sam. "We're going to protect you. You'll be safe and—"

"Don't promise what you can't keep."

"Sam…I'm not I'm telling the truth." She was hurt that he didn't believe her. She was angry that his father had done this.

"Don't lie. There's nothing you can do. Ever."

"Sam…" John stepped from the door and walked closer, stopping at the dresser.

"Just…leave me alone."

"Sam…"

"Please just go."

"Sam…" He sounded so hurt. And for the first time I heard him plead.

"John…let's just give him some space." I turned back and rested my hand on Sam's knee. "I'll be back later with some easy food for you to eat. I heard you lost your stomach earlier." Standing, she pushed John to the door, closing it firmly behind her. They were silent until they had reached the living room. Henri was on the porch, but he came in when they appeared.

"Why did you make us leave? We should be in there with him."

"And what would we be doing really? Forcing him to speak?"

"If we had to!" He was angry, his face turning red.

"Oh yeah, because that'll make him open up and trust us more won't it. While you're at it, maybe you can threaten him with your fists and he'll give you the answers to the bio test on Monday."

"I wouldn't…" He shook his head, and wiped angry tears.

"But that's exactly what you're proposing. Give him some space to settle down. This can't be easy for him, can it? I bet he's been hiding this secret for a while. And now suddenly the two people he's closest to have found out. I can't imagine what he's feeling."

Henri had stayed silent until then. "I guess it didn't go well?"

John shook his head, his brown eyes stormy pools of mud. "He's refusing to talk. He just wishes that I hadn't poked my nose into this."

Henri nodded. "I'm not surprised. I've seen this before. It's always like this." He stayed silent for a few minutes, then; "I'm glad you did meddle John. If you hadn't, I'm afraid he would have been silent about this, and would one day be killed by this."

He shook his head, and I swore. Then I looked up. "Where's the bathroom?"

Henri pointed down the hallway, across from John's room. Although she felt uncomfortable about it, she knew that she needed to do this. With purposeful steps, she made her way down the hallway, John and Henri close behind. Throwing open the flimsy doors, she flicked on the light and blinked as the light glared off the cheap linoleum floor. The cabinets inside were bare except for wire gauze and antiseptic and a few spare band aids.

Turning, she looked between John and Henri. "Do you have any other medical supplies?"

He shook his head.

"You need to go to the store Mr. Smith. You need to get pain killers and anything that will reduce a fever. And get some spare pieces of wood to splint his wrist. I saw the way he was using it. It has to be broken. You should go now, before it gets too late and the pharmacy closes. He might need this tonight."

Mr. Smith shook his head. "Of course. I don't know why I didn't think of it before. Will you guys be ok if I go and do that?"

John nodded confidently. "Hell yes."

"Alright. I'll be back in maybe an hour." He crossed the hall into the living room, grabbed his keys, and then left out the front door. They watched from the porch as Mr. Smith backed up and sped away down the road toward town.

John

We had been silent in the living room only a few minutes when we heard a car, very unlike Henri's, pull into the driveway. Standing, he raced out of the house, the screen door banging behind Sarah, who was following close behind.

The pickup truck was a dirty red, and the man that stepped out from the driver's seat looked like nothing more than a big bully. I knew who this was. It was Sam's step-father. The bastard that had put Sam in the condition that he was in now. He felt the glare emanating from him, but it receded with the sharp pinch that Sarah gave him seconds later. He understood then. If we were to keep Sam safe, we would have to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Sam's step-father however, clearly had made up his mind that we both knew where Sam was, and was glaring furiously.

"Where the FUCK is he?" He yelled, spittle flying onto the gravel before him.

He took a deep breath. "Can I help you?"

"You damn well can. I know you know where he is. Tell me dammit!" He pointed accusingly at us, and we both shuddered.

"I don't know who you are….Mr.-?" He tried to make himself sound convincingly confused, but he doubted it worked.

"Bullshit! You two are the little freak's 'friends' . So tell me where he is!"

"Mr. Goode?"

"You know where he is. Tell me or I swear…" He trailed off, to angry and panicked to be able to finish his sentence.

Sarah behind him, spoke up then. "Sam is missing? Since when? Where was he?" She was good. She really sounded concerned.

"Sir, I can assure you we had no IDEA that Sam was missing. We'll be sure to keep an eye out for him now" I nodded. "But I'd like to ask you to please stop cursing and being a bastard in front of a lady."

He scoffed. "This bitch? She's no lady." He shook his head.

"Excuse me? Shut the hell up you…fucking asshole." Sarah was shaking, and trying to calm herself.

"What did you call me? You need to learn your place. I'm the boss, because I'm older. Now shut that pretty little mouth and go bring Sam out now."

"Sir, you need to leave now. Because if you don't, I'm afraid I'm going to have to call the sheriff out here."

He blanched, his eyes widening. "Oh, you think you're so goddamn tricky don't you? You watch out. If I find out that you're hiding Sam, you'll wish you were never born."

"Is that a threat?" He ground out, his stance widening out. His palms were starting to burn, and he clenched it to stop the Lumen from shining.

"Is that the same kind of way you threaten Sam?" Sarah held a triumphant grin when Mr. Goode's face scrunched up in anger.

"Why you little…"

"Get the fuck off my property now, or I call the police." Sarah went inside, and came out seconds later with her cell phone.

Mr. Goode's personality changed dramatically then. "Of course, of course. I know when I'm not wanted no more. You just tell little Sammy to come home when you see him. His mother's worried sick."

Sarah shook her head. "I bet. She's probably worried she'll go to jail for child abuse."

Mr. Goode smiled. "I'm sorry. I have no idea what you're talking about. We're just worried about our son." With that, he got into his truck and backed out of the driveway, pausing on the road. "But like I said, if I found out you have Sam with you, and he doesn't come back home….watch YOUR backs. Accidents happen."

HE sped off into the dwindling twilight, leaving them on the steps shaking with fear, anger, and nerves.

**So, that's it. It was really fun to write. Especially the confrontation.**

**g-hope-love-life: Thanks so much for another great review! It was really great to hear that you enjoyed the last chapter as much as you did.**

**Twilight Gleek- Aww. Thanks so much! I'm really surprised, and kind of giddy that you hold it as one of your favorites. It makes my job that much more exciting and enjoyable. And it only adds a little pressure, but that's not a bad thing is it? :D I love ya. **

**Please review and tell me how I did. And if you have any suggestions or things you'd like to see, don't hesitate to suggest! Thanks for reading. Now go hit that special button, will ya? **

**Common, you can do it.**

**Don't be shy.**

**Common now you're just playing with me. **

**There ya go. **

**:D **


	6. Chapter 6

**So wow guys! I just wanted to say thank you so much. I cannot believe that there are 28 reviews for the 5 chapters posted as of now. It just makes me so happy to know that you guys are enjoying this story as much as I enjoy writing it. Thanks a lot! I hope you guys keep blessing me with the great reviews! I hope you like this chapter, it's kind of heavy, but it's needed. **

**I don't own I am Number Four, Lorien Legacies, or any of the other awesomeness in the series. Hollywood owns the movie adaptation, not me. **

John

As the dust settled and the truck zoomed off into the hills back toward town he turned, his hands and legs shaking from nerves. He had come so close to beating the hell out of that man. He had come so close to destroying every fiber of his being; to rip him apart so completely that nothing but inch long pieces of Mr. Goode would be found by trained specialists looking exactly for pieces of his body in the area.

He brushed past Sarah, who was equally as shaken and slammed into the house, collapsing against the countertop to keep himself upright as his legs gave way beneath him, and he was left breathing heavily against the cold countertop, the faint smell of ground coffee pervading the air, his mind swimming.

He hadn't fully understood the monstrosity that was Mr. Goode untill tonight. He had, of course, seen his anger in action the night he had beaten Sam—every punch and kick had wielded such a sense of deliberate intent to hurt—but he had never imagined that the anger manifesting in Mr. Goode could come out so explosive even when in normal conversation. Even with hiding his anger, there was a dangerous tone in his voice that hinted at the darkness in his being. And he was afraid to see what Mr. Goode would be like if he ever lost control. More importantly; he was afraid of how he would react. Would he turn into a mirror of Mr. Goode? Or would he be able to rise above his hate?

The screen door slammed into the frame, and he jumped his elbow banging into the corner of the counter and he grunted, rubbing his arm and scowling. His nerves were frayed and he had only been talking to Mr. Goode. He wondered, if it ever came to it—and something deep inside himself told him it would—what he would be like in the face of a Mr. Goode ready to provoke a fight. If he was this shaky when Mr. Goode had been speaking with anger, than how would he be after the punches had been dealt? The thought scared him, and to divert himself from having to think about it any longer, he looked up. Sarah was sitting on a love seat, her head in her hands and her shoulders convulsing lightly. Dying sunlight streaked through the window with weak rays, striking her shoulder and making her hair glow, but she didn't feel it's weak warmth. He could tell. He knew she was crying, but there was nothing he could do to console her. He was just as upset as she was. Maybe more so.

As her tears became more audible, he lowered his head and allowed his eyes to scan the cracks, unable to do much of anything. He knew he should probably go and see how Sam was doing. Even in his head, he looked so fragile and ghostly and beautiful. He knew leaving him alone now wasn't such a good idea, but he knew if he went in now, as unstable as he was, that it wouldn't do him any good and so he rested on the counter trying to collect his thoughts drowning out his reasoning in his mind.

Finally, Sarah seemed to catch her breath and calm down and he heard her shift in her chair. "What kind of a man is that?"

He shook his head. "That's no man. A man doesn't hit a kid." He wasn't surprised at the venom in his voice, and if Sarah was, she didn't show it. Instead she nodded.

That's all anyone could do right now.

Sam

The door of the truck slamming startled him out of his dream and he turned his head groggily to the window, becoming increasingly aware of the silence and his shallow breath. There were murmurings from outside, the voices muffled by the pane glass, and there was nothing he could grasp and identify as words even as he strained his ears to listen in to what was happening outside. At first, he thought it was just John and his father talking outside, maybe while they collected the groceries sitting in the trunk.

But then he had heard his step-father's voice ring loud and clear in the cool air of the evening and instantly his body froze, his hands balling into fists which clenched the thick blanket laid on him. Even from here the anger lacing his step-father's voice made him squirm and his breath grew shallower as his eyes grew dilated. He sensed the imminent danger coming toward him, and he backed up into the headboard as he dug himself further under the blankets, not really feeling the pain which jolted his body. In the back of his mind, he knew that it was futile. Hiding under a blanket protected him as greatly as throwing a hand out in front of yourself saved you from being killed by a high speeding car.

He knew that voice; he even knew that specific tone. It was the voice his step-father used after coming home from his 'business meetings' with some of the other entrepreneurs in the town every night after work. It was the way he sounded every night when he came home, with the smell of scotch strong on the air around him. When his mother had long ago gone to bed with a sigh and a small, false smile toward him as if nothing was wrong; the smile which spewed the lie of love for him. His mother, whose face spewed the false notion that everything would be ok after all, and that all that he had endured was nothing more than a bad dream.

It was the voice he used right when he saw him, standing in the doorway of his room, or in the kitchen grabbing a drink, or even outside near the garage. Right before the anger clouded his eyes and his hands twitched with the longing to once again show him who the master of the house was. _Not your father. He left. Probably couldn't stand you, you little bastard. Such a no good piece of shit that he just had to leave. You and your mother are just pains in the ass that have to be taken care of because you're too weak to take care of yourselves. What? Does that upset you? Why don't you go run to daddy? Oh…that's right…he's dead. ._

He shuddered, and closed his eyes, shivering as the cool breeze hit the cold sweat covering his forehead and his arms in a thin sheen. He couldn't go back with that man. He couldn't stand to have to be in his presence any longer, and he felt his heart beating out of his chest with the mere thought. He'd kill himself before he gave that bastard another chance to lay a finger on him. It wasn't the first time he had contemplated suicide. But it was the first time he had been able to think it with such strength and bravery. The walls of the room were closing in on him as he continued to breathe erratically. He was trapped on the bed and he was sure that at any minute his step father would come in with a sneer and shove him off the bed, ordering him through clenched teeth to get into the truck.

But then the door of the truck had again slammed shut. He flinched, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth, his heart pounding even as the truck zoomed off into the distance. The room was back to normal. He was safe. He stayed exactly how he was though, frozen under the blanket for what seemed like a long time, and only moved a little when he heard the screen door slam shut. The voices of John and Sarah in the living room settled him only a little, and he found himself growing tired from his exertion but unable to ease himself into relaxation.

John

It had taken a while for his heart to stop pounding and to stop his teeth from grinding, but he was finally calmer. Sarah had quieted down as well, and she sat on a chair in the kitchen, sipping the cold sludge that barely passed as coffee. Her legs were tucked up against her chest, and small strands of her hair were poking up from her head; evidence of a long day and too much stress and her once glowing skin was now pale and dead. She barely looked up, and from time to time she wiped at her face, sniffing slightly as she clenched the mug to her chest. He could identify. If he didn't feel like he had to be strong for himself and Sam, then he too would probably be in almost the same position, wondering into his hands what he should do.

But he wasn't. And he couldn't. Which meant he needed to stop feeling sorry about everything happening in the situation he currently found himself in and get his ass in gear so that Sam could feel safe and secure, probably for the first time in a while. He wouldn't make Sam feel any more alone than he already must be feeling, and he felt slightly guilty at the thought that while he had been with Sarah having a mental break down, Sam was by himself in a bed.

Inside him, deep within his chest was a raw desire that he wasn't sure he actually wanted. It was a desire that would eventually either make him or break him. One that would either consume him or make him stronger. That was to know once and for all, everything that had happened to Sam since his father had disappeared and his mother had remarried that son of a bitch. There was only one way to get the answer, and he knew it lied on the other side of his bedroom door but the walk suddenly seemed exponentially longer and the hallway more ominous than it was in reality. Taking a deep breath, he quickly made his way past Sarah, who looked startled and only turned to watch him as he moved and made his way to his bedroom, stopping only once to take another breath with his hand on the doorknob.

He knocked, then entered, crossing into the room and sitting down on the chair still set up next to the bed.

He sat their silently, watching Sam's chest rise and fall as he turned his head. Behind them, Sarah's soft footsteps were heard on the hard wood, but he pretended he didn't hear them and locked his eyes with Sam's.

"Is he gone?"

John's heart fell to his chest, and he felt his hands clench. _Damn that man_. "Yes. Yes and he won't be coming back here."

Sam looked wary, but nodded. Maybe he was starting to trust him more easily after all.

"Sam?"

He crinkled his brow and raised his head at him, his eyes shining. "Hm?"

"Can you…tell me what he did?"

Sam sighed, and stared up at the ceiling, his eyes flickering over the cracks while his right index finger traced patterns on the bedspread. Sarah crossed the room, and sat on the dresser, her feet swinging inches from the floor, her hair dangling in front of the left side of her face. She looked wary, but at the same time supportive, if not encouraging.

"I don't…I wouldn't know where to start."

John nodded, and opened his mouth, then closed it. What could he really say to that? He had been through something that both of them couldn't imagine in a million years, but he was also in the same boat when it came to Sam and the abuse he had taken. It was Sarah who spoke up.

"Just...start at the beginning." She gave him an encouraging smile, and pushed a few strands of hair behind her ear, sitting on the bureau as if she had all the time in the world.

He nodded, and took a deep breath, not looking at anything in particular at all. Really, that's how most everybody tells a story; staring at nothing in particular or the most miniscule detail in the room that only they could see while the story they had to tell fell from their lips. Maybe it really does help jog the memory. Or maybe it's just a prerequisite.

Sam took a deep breath, and sat up his breathing coming in sharp gasps, which only alleviated when he sat up quickly and helped Sam. He fought the urge to leave his hand against Sam's tight chest, resting his hand on Sam's shoulder for strictly longer than necessary before sitting down again. Propped up against the headboard, Sam was finally ready, and he took another deep breath before starting.

"After my father disappeared…my mother and I were complete wrecks. She hardly ate, and we both hardly slept and the days just dragged on. The world had seemed to end, and I fell into a mini depression, staying in bed more days than I did out of it. But…even after he was gone, life moved on." He paused, still staring at the ceiling . "When my mom met Dan…she seemed to have forgotten all about my father. And I couldn't understand how she could get over my father's disappearance so quickly. As if he had just never existed in our lives."

Sam glanced at him, and he nodded in encouragement, placing a hand on top of his.

"He seemed ok at first. There was something off about him…but I was too afraid to tell her because…well she was happy for the first time. I mean, I hadn't seen her like that for a long time. And I thought maybe it would be ok…you know? Mom would spend some time with him and then they'd find dad and she'd come rushing in and we'd forget all about Dan. But then the engagement was announced."

Sarah was nodding. "I remember. The whole town was talking about it."

"Wasn't even a full two years since my dad had vanished and she was already walking down the fucking isle like it was second nature. Of course people talked. And they were mean. But Dan had that big cheesy smile on his damn face and he fit the role so well that I just played along while screaming inside. I didn't want her to get married. I didn't want a new dad. My dad was still alive no matter what the cops or my mother said. I could feel it. Still do, really. But I played along, kind of like a real life version of 'house'. I was the gangly kid, and my mother was the dame and we needed a new man in the house to protect us and play ball with me and make my mom laugh. And in some ways I believed we'd turn into that make-believe family. Even though I knew they didn't exist, and our life would be far from perfect."

He nodded. "When did he start to...you know."

"A month after they came back from their honeymoon I was walking into the kitchen and I bumped into him carrying his first guitar. A string broke, and some of the paint chipped. It happened so quickly. One minute I was standing there, trying to figure out what to say and the next I was on the ground with a black eye and a split lip. Mom had a fight with him that night, but they made up. But still…he kept changing."

He paused for a few minutes, and I thought he was done.

"He started going to that damn bar downtown next to the camera shop. He started swearing, and pushing me and yelling at my mother. But mom just smiled and took it like it was any ordinary thing for a man to yell at his wife. But I know…I _know _ that dad never yelled at mom like that. And he started to blame me for the most miniscule things. And as he kept drinking and coming home late…it kept getting worse and the screaming got worse and…when he hit me it was harder and more punches came. And…and it kept going like that, getting bigger and bigger untill…untill you stepped in."

John clenched his eyes shut, his mind racing. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like to live in that house. He knew if he were in Sam's position he would have gone crazy and run away a long time ago. But maybe that was because he was Lorien, and his connections to his paternal parents would never be as strong as a humans, even if his life had gone on normally and the Mogadorians hadn't attacked. Maybe that's what differentiated humans from Lorien in the first place. Humans had the strength to withstand the harshest treatment because they could be so blind from the love they have, even toward someone hurting them. Loriens had a way to distance themselves from the situation during contemplation enough to be able to sever the ties-even in utopia things like this happened from time to time. He had found that out by Henri. Who was mysteriously absent.

He broke from his thoughts to realize that both Sarah and Sam were waiting for him to say something, and he cleared his throat, his mouth dry. "I…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry about what happened Sam. But you have to trust me when I say I won't let you go back to that man. I'll protect you. I promise."

The corner of Sam's mouth twitched. "I wish I could believe it But I've run out of faith."

Sarah hopped off the bureau and made her way to the bed, climbing delicately over the mattress so that anything injured wouldn't get jostled. She lay her head down on the pillow next to Sam's, and wrapped an arm around his waist turning her head to look at him. "Believe it Sam Goode. John wouldn't lie about something like that. And you know he takes his promises pretty damn seriously. And I will too, when I say I'll fight your step-dad himself if he tries anything…if I have to."

Sam wrinkled his brow, laughing slightly about Sarah's curse—she hardly ever did so, and to hear something so 'dirty' come out of her mouth was slightly shocking. But then he paused, mulling over her words. "Why?"

"Because. I love you Sam Goode. You're one of my friends. And I don't let bad stuff happen to the people I care about."

"And I don't either." He put in, curiously jealous of the position that Sarah and Sam were sharing. Something in his heart tugged, and but he smiled, even as Sarah's declaration of love played behind his eyes.

They stayed like that for a while, long after Sam had drifted off to sleep and when they finally left, they collapsed into chairs in the living room, sighing as exhaustion swept over them.

As the night played on outside, John stared up at the ceiling. On the other side of the room he could see Sarah laying on the couch, just as restless as he was.

Finally he asked the question that he had been dying to ask, even though he still didn't know why. "Do you really love him?"

She turned his head. "Of course."

He nodded, his heart sinking in his chest for some unknown reason. Could it be possible that he liked Sam as more than a friend?

"But only as a friend John. Believe it or not, I actually have feelings for someone entirely different. But hey, keep smiling. That just means you have no competition." She smiled, turning her back to him even as he spluttered on the couch, flustered.

**Hey guys! Thanks so much for reading! I'm sorry again for the Hiatus. I've been really busy and I just have gotten a chance to breathe. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and any feedback you guys have would be most excellent. I'll be updating a lot quicker now. I can promise that. Now that schools out I have an unadulterated amount of time—outside of work, family, and friends, that I can now put to writing use. So expect faster updates. The next chapter should be interesting, no spoilers…but it shan't be boring. Until next time you guys. Thanks again for reading! Review?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey readers! So…hehe…it has been a while, I know. And it wasn't intentional at all. Quite frankly, a perfect storm kind of formed in my life and it just ended up with the mini-hiatus that we've had since June. Basically what happened was this: Summer was the transition time between High School and College, already a hectic time and since my family is split it takes a lot more attention and energy to get ready for school. Then, this story went strike on me, and decided I was no longer in its favorite five. Because of this, it sat idle on my account, gathering dead-end ideas and dust. It's now high time to resurrect it from the dust bin don't you think? **

**Anyway, I'm sorry if I made anyone angry, frustrated, or pissed. I hope that I continue to do a decent job on this plot.** ** :) Enjoy, and I hope you decide to click the lovely button at the bottom of your screen and tell me how I did. You guys drive the story, and really it's a gift for me if you enjoy it. As always, I'll listen to any concerns or grievances you have as well, and take in any ideas or criticism that will enhance to story. Now ONWARD :D **

**I do not own Lorien Legacies/ I am Number Four, its characters, or central plot. **

Sarah

"Sarah"

Turning her head quickly, she sighed as her muddy eyes landed on the solid chest of Mark James. His hair was still spiked in his classic douchebag look, his teeth still twinkling like diamonds in the florescent lights screwed into the ceiling. But his normally condescending eyes held a concerned expression instead of his usual condescending one.

"What do you want Mark? I already said I wouldn't go back to you. Can't you just take no for an answer?" Shaking her head, she closed her locker with too much force, and the resulting bang reduced the hall to silence; all eyes locked on them.

He glanced around nervously; shifting from foot to foot as he casually looked over his shoulders at their peers, now starting to edge closer toward them as a likely confrontation started. They were sadly disappointed however, because the next moment he had a firm grasp on her upper arm and was dragging her through the double doors and out into the warmth of the sun. With a gasp, she pulled away from him, taking a few paces back from him while glaring at him. "What the _hell_!"

"Sarah…please. This isn't about what you think it is."

She stopped, her mouth parted as if she was going to scoff at him. No sound came out. Her mind frozen as possible reasons for this encounter entered her head. Maybe Mark took the silence as an invitation to speak. Even if he hadn't interpreted that way, he ploughed ahead of the conversation, effectively silencing her. He apparently wasn't giving her the opportunity to bow out of the conversation.

"Goode's missing. He didn't show up for school yesterday, and he never misses sch—"

"Aw. Did you miss him for his scheduled Monday morning pounding?"

His silence confirmed it and she scoffed.

"Sarah! Can you let me speak?"

She rolled her eyes "It depends. Are you going to try to get me to tell you where he is so he can get the shit beat out of him yet again by yourself and your brainless goons?"

He shook his head. "Please, listen. I know you don't want to believe me, and hell, I wouldn't believe myself either but I swear my intentions toward him are pure."

"Mhm. Something makes that hard to believe."

"Sarah! I don't pound him. Not as regularly as it seems anyway. And I don't hurt him any more than I have to so appearances can be kept. When we go off together in the morning, it's really so I can document the damage being done to him."

It made her pause. Was Mark actually insinuating that he was trying to help Sam get out of the abuse his father was providing? If that was the case, and he had caught on to it before she or John had, what did that say about them?

"Hey. Don't think like that. The only reason why I knew was because my father's the police chief and he's been drilling it into my head since the time I was able to read the signs of abuse, and how I should always tell him."

She shook her head and walked to a bench soaked in warm sunlight. "You want me to believe that you have always maintained good intentions with Sam. That even though you, for some reason, have some beef with John, who only happens to be Sam's best friend…you aren't hurting him? That you're helping him instead? That's a lot to believe based off faith. Even if your words meant something to me; which they don't I'd have a hard time believing what you're saying."

His eyes looked imploringly at her. The final bell rang and his hand lightly touched hers to keep her seated, however she made no move to get up. "Don't take my word for it." He quickly unzipped his backpack and reached inside, the crunching sound of papers shifting inside the only thing to break the silence between them until a camera was revealed. When she looked at him, he just said "it's the camera I've been using to collect evidence of the beatings. Take a look if you have too."

She did. The dark welts and ugly bruising document within made her cringe, and for the first time she looked at him with trust. "Why are you showing this to me?"

He took a breath, and exhaled. His fingers drummed against the plastic bench, his gaze searching the football field for a few seconds before he turned back to her. "Because. Sam's been missing for two days now. And although his dad calls him in sick, rumor is that Sam's missing and his parents don't give a shit. On top of that, there's an uglier rumor going on that Sam was in a fight with his step-dad on Friday night…which turned pretty ugly."

She began to chew her lip. So he had heard. "So what are you doing talking to me?"

He rolled his eyes. "Don't act stupid. It doesn't fit you, and besides your course levels make it pretty obvious there's not a stupid brain cell in your head. You're Sam's other best friend. If he has gone missing, if he's gotten hurt again, the probability that you and John had heard from him or seen him is pretty good."

It was her turn to look around now, gazing at the birds flitting through the limbs of the branches around the flagpole. "You're smarter than you look. I don't know if that's a good thing or not yet."

He grabbed her by the arm and forced her to look at him. "Is it bad?"

She looked down, focusing on her fumbling fingers and nodded. She though she heard him swear softly.

"Where is he?"

"Why do you care?" She studied his face. His eyes, the curve of his nose, the way his lips were tightly pressed together as he thought out his response.

"Believe it or not, I can't stand to see someone get beaten by people who are supposed to look out for them. I guess I inherited it from my father. We were making a case, secretly of course, against Mr. Anthony Goode. All we needed was a few more pictures, written affidavits by Sam, and you and John and we could have taken his ass down for good. It would have benefited everyone."

"How?" she inquired, her brow furrowed in confusion. She should have been able to figure it out, but for some reason the logic would not come.

He held her gaze. "Sam would finally get some peace, my dad would get promoted—another notch on the belt for him, and his step-father can't hurt anyone else ever again. Except Sam's gone and we can't put that bastard away unless we have him to testify. His mother is useless. She's to in love with the monster to even think of helping us. My father isn't stupid. He isn't a bad man either. He just gets swept up in seeing that I have the opportunities he never had. He isn't really watching John. He was just trying to get the competition to back off. I know it's not right…but it is what it is."

She held her breath. Should she be telling him exactly where Sam was? What if it backfired?

"Please, Sarah. We can't do this without you now."

She nodded. "Let's get to your car then." As they started to stand, she grabbed his arm and stopped him. "You get to explain to John and his father though."

John

"Hell no." he growled at Sarah, anger radiating from his body. Fists clenched and tightly at his side, he took a step forward, hesitated, and then decided against it. This was not the time.

"John…relax."

"Sam…I can't believe you're OK with this."

If he was honest with himself, he really couldn't decide whether he was angrier that Mark James had been brought to his house by Sarah—a betrayal he didn't know she was capable of or if it was because Sam didn't seem as shy or introverted around Mark. He didn't as readily try to protest when Mark sat near him on the bed. He didn't divert his eyes, or refuse to speak when Mark asked a question. He seemed comfortable around him. He even smiled.

It drove him crazy.

"John…stop. You have to listen to Sarah. She had good intentions." He paused and glanced at him, his chocolate eyes laced with concern. "Besides, if you keep it up you're apt to hurt yourself. And there's already one to many hurt people in this room."

The joke didn't escape him. He had to concede to the point though. It _was_ rational.

"Explain." He demanded, more forcefully than he had meant, and when both Sam and Sarah both simultaneously parted their lips to speak, he shook his head. "No. I don't want to hear it from either of you. HE is the only one talking right now."

And so, Mark reiterated verbatim what he had told Sarah in the quad. During this, Sam stared at John through his soft eyes and Sarah sat on the dresser with her dainty feet dangling in the air, eyes diverted to the sunshine. When it was over, all he could do was blink.

"Are you trying to tell me that the bullying suffered at school is just a cover so that Mark can find out and gather evidence so that his father can get another notch on his belt?"

"No" Sam shook his head, "He's trying to help me break free from my step-father so that I can breathe and feel safe. You had the misfortune of meeting him yesterday." At this, he shook slightly with anger, imaging the retribution he would enact on Mr. Goode. Sam only grimaced, but Sarah sucked in breath and closed her eyes. "You know what he really is. Mark figured it out. I let him help."

"Why not tell me? I'm your best friend."

He shrugged. "I know you too well. I knew what you would do if you found out—"

"What would I do?"

"—and I didn't think being sent to prison would help out anyone! Even if it WAS worth it, which it's not in case you were wondering."

"It would have been. Nobody does that to y—anybody Sam. It's not right." He caught Henri staring at him, but he flashed him a confused look before turning back to Sam.

"Neither is murder. Mark's way is easier, more efficient, and more damning." With a sigh, he leaned back against the headboard, and held his forehead with his left hand, his right quickly grabbing a bottle of water so that he could stop the tension headache forming in his head.

With a wary eye, Mark looked from an exhausted Sam to Sarah. Then he turned to Henri, who had shown up in the doorway when he heard raised voices. Finally, he turned to John, before shifting his body to Sam.

"I'll need to record what I can of the bruises. I'll need to document that broken wrist and your taped ribs as well. Maybe do a picture of you without your shirt, so that we can get the full effect. As horrible as it sounds, I'm glad only the minor bruises have healed. It means we have more leverage over this bastard."

He turned to the others. "My dad says I'll need witness testimony. Can you guys tell me what you saw and any major events that could help us lock away Mr. Goode?"

They nodded one by one, however, Henri frowned. "John and I don't get our names involved in this. We'll give out anonymous information and statements, but we don't want our names spread across any local or state newspapers. We just moved here. A lot of people don't know us, and I'd really like to keep us both off the stand. I hope you'll understand."

He felt so annoyed and furious. For once, couldn't Henri put the invasion and the Mogadorians out of his mind so that they could really help someone who needed them? If Henri had his way, then the statements wouldn't be of any use. Besides, if this went to public trial, Mr. Goode would probably mention his name in front of a full room of innocents. Press and Public. And then his name would be in the papers anyway.

However, Mark was nodding, already fishing out a worn notebook and a camera. "Sarah, I'll need you to help me take the pictures. You were always better with a camera."

He turned to Sam, and softly touched his shoulder. His touch made his heart stop breathing. He saw spots. He felt himself sneer at Mark. What did it mean? Was it just a friendly reassurance? Was it something more? Did Sam feel it held special significance? Did that mean he_ liked_ Mark? Why was he thinking this? When would these tumultuous feelings stop?

He realized everyone was moving with a purpose. They had decided something, and it was only now when Sarah's fingers were pushing him toward the door that he realized he had been lost in his thoughts for longer than he had anticipated. "Go outside lover boy. You can come back in when I'm satisfied with the documentation." In a much softer voice she whispered "I'm sure you'd like to equally watch Sam half strip and glare daggers at Mark, but I think I can handle it."

The door closed. It was him and Henri.

"John, let's go for a walk."

Henri

The tension surrounding John was palpable as they trudged through the woods behind the house, stepping over rotting logs and through the thick weeds and brambles as they made their way farther from the house. As they moved, small strands of the dying sunlight reached them, and it was during these times that he found his eyes wandering over to John, who was mumbling quickly under his breath, kicking loose dirt clumps and rocks in his way.

He had to diffuse the situation before they got back to the house, or else he was afraid John might kill Mark in his jealousy. But how was he supposed to talk about Johns feelings? He couldn't tell John what he was feeling, and he definitely couldn't play therapist. They hadn't an inkling that this could happen on Lorien when they had gotten wind of the possible invasion. He wasn't prepared for this. Lorien hadn't prepared him for this.

"John?" He turned to look at his Garde, frowning slightly and creasing his brow when John made no sign to even tell him he had heard him. "John? JOHN?"

John jumped, pulled out of his thoughts by his sharp voice and turned to look at him, a somewhat dazed expression gracing his face. "What? What Henri?"

He looked at John carefully, slowing down to a more leisurely pace as they moved. "Can I ask you a question? I know this might be awkward for you, and you might not feel like answering me at all, but I think you really don't have a choice any longer."

John looked confused and put off, but none the less nodded warily and kept quiet, shoving his hands into his worn pockets and looking down at the rich dirt.

"Why…I mean…why are you so angry at Mark?"

John snapped his head up and looked at him vehemently. "What do you mean why? He tortured Sam since the time he was in middle school. He used to date Sarah and when they broke up went ballistic and drove all of her friends away from her in an attempt to force her back."

Henri shook his head, sighing. "And yes, I could understand you being upset at him. But what you showed today in that bedroom was not anything remotely close to normal anger over the actions of another. You looked like you were ready to rip Mark's head off and make him eat his own heart at points. Why are you so upset?"

He shrugged. " I just…I don't know. I want to protect them. They're my best friends. I've never had friends before Henri…I don't want them to get hurt". He kicked another rock, and they both watched it soar through the air, listening for the cacophony when it struck the bark of a tall tree.

He smiled a little, and walked next to him, their arms almost touching. "I know you never have….but. I just have to point this out John. You…I noticed you weren't as mad when Mark made remarks to working with Sarah. You got mad…but you became noticeably aggravated when Mark went near Sam." He waited, holding his breath to see how John would react.

John blushed. "Yeah well…I just…he's just in a really delicate shape right now and the thought that Mark, who hasn't done anything but hurt him for years can do more for him than I can…it just….it's almost unbearable." He sighed, and turned to study a group of ants marching in unison across a rotting log.

Henri secretly smiled. John was almost there. "Well, why does it matter that Mark can help Sam more than you can? Shouldn't it just matter that _somebody_ can do something for him?"

John scowled and bit his lip. "Yeah…but it's just…" he sighed, "I just feel like I should be the one that makes sure he's ok. Like I should be the one that can help him the most in every situation. I guess I'm just protective of him because so much has happened to him."

Henri nodded, and turned to look at him for the first time. "And why do you feel so protective? Why do you feel like you have to protect him?"

John shrugged again and looked up at him with frustrated tears in his eyes. "_I don't know_. All I know is that it physically hurts every time I see him suffering. And I just always want to see him happy. No matter what that means I have to do."

"Do you think that's normal John? Do you think that everyone feels that way about their best friends? Why did you get so angry John?"

He shook his head. "No. I don't know what it is, Henri. Honestly I've never felt like this about anyone before. I know that if it was Sarah…I wouldn't feel this strongly about Mark helping. It's just…Henri when I thought about Sam with his shirt off, being so exposed and being so exposed for _Mark_ of all people…I had this indescribable feeling of jealousy and anger."

"Why John?" He turned further, standing in front of him, adopting an assertive, yet not overbearing stance.

"I just…I don't think anyone should be able to see Sam so weak. Anybody except myself."

"Why?"

"Because….because nobody should see Sam like that. Because nobody could care about Sam as much as I do. Nobody feels the same way about him as I do."

Henri nodded. "And what do you feel John?"

He looked lost in his thoughts, and Henri could tell that he was mulling over the question and fighting an internal battle with himself and then his eyes widened. "I….I love him." He looked like he had been punched in the face. "I…I love Sam. I love Sam Goode. I…holy shit Henri!"

"I love Sam Goode"

**So tada…! I hope that this wasn't too off kilter and that nobody thought that it was out of the blue or a cop out. If you did…leave a comment. Was it too mushy? Was it good? Too slow? Stupid? Lame? Great? Awesome? Exciting? I seriously can't thank you guys enough for all of your responses and likes and favorites to this story. I'm going to promise to try to get a chapter out every week or two. It'll probably be uploaded on the weekends though, since that's when I have the most free time. Whoever thinks college is a time where you have a lot of free-time, is delusional. :) hah. **


	8. Chapter 8

"So what do we do now?"

It was amazing how awkward he felt after such a passionate, life altering declaration had been uttered. Suddenly, he didn't know where to put his hands, and he worried he was staring, or being too obvious. He had the sudden fear that everyone in the room knew about his infatuation. And he had to fight off a stubborn blush that kept trying to advance across his cheeks every time his eyes met Sam's, even if only for the briefest of seconds.

They were now sitting in the living room, the first time that Sam had moved from the bedroom to any other room in the house since he had arrived battered and broken. Sam, fully clothed, was propped up on the couch with a wool blanket draped around his legs. Sarah and Mark were sitting across from him on a love seat, and Henri was leaning against the island in the kitchen, drinking more coffee. He had the intense urge to sit down at the end of the couch and position Sam's legs so that they draped over him. Or, to sit on the arm rest and gently run his fingers through Sam's hair.

Instead, he picked up the house phone and tossed it to Mark, who deftly caught it with a raised eyebrow. "What am I going to do with this?"

"Call your father. He's the head of the police force here, and if he's been keeping records of the abuse Sam's been suffering from then this should be reported. And maybe with your pictures and Sarah's and mine testimonies about the character of Mr. Goode we can finally incarcerate the bastard."

"And this can be all over?"

Sam sounded so hopeful that it nearly broke his heart.

"It'll be over soon," Sarah soothed, reaching her hand out to clasp onto Sam's own. "And I promise that I won't let that man do anything else to you Sam."

"Neither will I" Mark muttered, punching in his father's number.

"I won't either. You're safe Sam, and I won't let anything else happen to you again. Anyone who wants to mess with you from now on will have to go through me."

Sarah gave him a knowing glance, and then smiled back at Sam. "I'm going to go make you some tea. It'll soothe your nerves so that when Officer James gets here you can be focused, but calm."

They both watched Sarah exit the room, and observed her and Henri conversing quietly as she filled the kettle. Both heard the hiss and clicking of the stove as the gas valve was turned. Mark, who had been with them still, walked outside, the phone pressed to his ear. They were alone.

He slowly made his way over to Sam, who lay there slowly picking at his fingernails. His heart was beating so loudly in his chest that he wondered if Sam could hear it. "Hey…Sam?"

Sam jumped, but turned and looked at him, a slow, sweet smile on his face. "Yeah?" Sam's voice was hoarse, and he looked a little unsure but when he started to lower himself onto the edge of the cushion, he pulled his legs up flush with his chest, allowing him room.

"How are you feeling? About all of this I mean."

There was a pregnant silence between them, only broken by the muffled voice of Mark on the phone and the chirruping of some robins nearby. He shrugged, and pushed the blanket off of him. The screen door groaned as a soft breeze entered the house, and he noticed how Sam's hair danced with the intrusive wind. "I'm fine," he intoned, slowly rubbing his left arm.

"Really?" He wondered if the worry in his voice was as evident to Sam as it was to him.

Sam looked at him for a few minutes. He could see the metaphorical wheels inside Sam's head turn, possibly trying to gauge his reaction to whatever he had to say. "You can tell me anything, Sam," he reassured.

Sam bent his head, and found something moderately interesting with the rough blanket he had just kicked off. "I'm…I'm still afraid. What if this doesn't work? What if he somehow convinces everyone that I'm a liar and then he comes home and I have to deal with him alone—"

He gently raised Sam's chin, and smiled at him, even as his palms grew sweaty and his face again heated up. "Sam…" he sighed, "that won't happen."

His eyes were wide, and there were unshed tears just behind his eyelashes. "How do you know?"

He licked his lips, and cleared his throat. Could he tell him? Could he reveal to him his most deep and most dangerous desire? And if he did would Sam reciprocate or would he push him away and want nothing to do with him? Would he runt to Sarah? Or worse, would he go to Mark.

"I know…because I will _never_ leave you alone. I will always be there to help you out when you need it, or to comfort you when you're hurt. And I'll always try to put a smile back on your face."

Sam's grin spread. Tears leaked from his eyes now, and he noticed that his fingers were gripping the sheet as hard as he could, forcing the blood from his knuckles.

Fear that he had done something damning raced through him like a bolt of lightning from a spring storm. "What…what's wrong? Sam?"

He shook his head and let a laugh escape from his parched lips. It was dry, and there was something within it that was just beyond his reach. It sounded off, coming from Sam. "I'm…just not sure what I ever did to get a friend like you, John. You saved my life."

Sam threw his arms around his neck, and he pulled Sam to him. His own larger hands were gripping Sam's waist as easily as if he were grabbing an extension of his own body. He felt whole; content in a way that he hadn't experienced since he had arrived to Earth all those years ago, a small frightened boy with only his Cepan for company. He felt Sam's shoulder's shudder, and held him tighter as he felt his shirt dampen with tears. His fingers ran softly across and down his back, soothing him.

They were interrupted with a low clearing of the throat. Sam instantly was back against the pillows, as far away from him as he could get, while rubbing his eyes. He could tell he probably looked upset and a little put out as he turned to see Officer James standing in the doorway. Officer James looked pleased with himself though.

"How are you doing, son?"

Sam shrugged, still wiping his eyes. He took the cup of tea from Sarah, nodding gratefully before taking a few tentative sips. Finally, he managed a small squeak that sounded like a "fine".

Officer James walked over toward him, and knelt down. One large hand engulfed his shoulder, and he gave him a fatherly shake. "Good news. I just got off the phone with Officer McNeely. Your father has been processed and is firmly behind bars. We did it Sam. And we couldn't have done any of it without you."

The smile that broke upon Sam's face was something he had never seen from him, nor from any other human that he had ever encountered. He threw his arms around Officer James' shoulders, laughing gratefully as fat tears rolled down his cheeks. He looked like he had just tasted freedom for the first time.

Officer James pulled away first, and Sam sank down into the fluffed pillows once again with a sigh that spoke more about his suffering than even the purple bruises on his soft skin had.

"You do realize that we have a long battle ahead of us. Just because he's behind bars now, doesn't mean that he's definitely locked away. We still have to go through the judicial process. I'm confident though, that after our defense attorney gets through with our evidence, you'll be hard pressed to find anyone in the state of Ohio that won't find him guilty. But you're going to have to face the media and you might even have to testify Sam…potentially against your mother as well. Can you handle that?"

He found himself falling further in love with Sam for the way that he paused and thought. He didn't rashly move forward with his plans to exact justice for himself and his missing father. He weighed his options. Finally though, he nodded, even as he took a shaky breath.

"Alright then. Mr. Smith, can you help take these kids down to the station? We have to write up some testimonies and process them through before their memories interfere with their encounter with Mr. Goode. Sam, you'll come with me in my vehicle so I can protect you…no offense of course Mr. Smith."

He looked at Henri, waiting for him to object and insist Sam went with _them_ but he only smiled and raised his palms in surrender. "Sure, whatever you say officer."

As Sam stood up and made to leave the room, he suddenly found himself beside him. "I'm coming with him. With all due respect sir, I feel like I can protect him and I don't want to let him out of my sight…after what I saw of Mr. Goode's character I mean."

He only grunted and ushered him along after Sam. He didn't miss Sarah's smile that time either.

Sarah

Processing the information that we had to offer took longer than I had initially thought it would. It's nothing like you see on the crime shows. They don't just stick you in a little white room and get your side of the story. You don't sit behind the desk of some brilliant detective, uttering what you experienced as the shadows of the office partially concealed what the detective was really thinking.

Instead, everything is sterile. Paperwork and more paperwork has to be processed. Your identification has to be validated and then reevaluated. Thank God I kept my permit on me. It made it easier to trace my paperwork in the system.

It was even more intimidating to talk to the detective assigned to me. Sitting in a room with only a tape recorder on the table to record my story and a notepad to take notes, I couldn't even tell how many times I stumbled over my own words. Thankfully, I'm sure the detective has worked with a lot of people that were in my position and if he was annoyed with me he didn't say.

Finally, I was outside in the lobby, a cup of coffee in a Styrofoam cup in my hand. The chair was green leather, and looked stained and disgusting but I was tired enough to not care. I was the only one done at that point. Sam I knew, would be here for quite some time now, helping to establish a timeline of events and going over evidence previously collected. Henri…I didn't know where he had ventured too. Same with Mark, who had been escorted somewhere as soon as we had entered the station. John though…he was two doors down with another detective, probably telling him the exact same thing that I had just finished telling my guy. It had taken him longer because his records had been buried but he had been so adamant to share his testimony that the officers behind their desks hadn't given up.

It was obvious, that Officer James had interrupted something of significance. The way that John had been clinging to Sam's waist and the way that Sam had been clutching at John like he was his savior made things a little obvious. Even Mark, who was pretty clueless in almost anything that wasn't football, had gotten it. She wondered briefly if John had gotten a chance to tell Sam how he felt about him. It had been painfully obvious during his first week that he wasn't into her. He was even more obvious once she had started joining John and Sam for lunch and during their after school ice cream sessions downtown. The way John clung to every word that Sam said. The almost wishful look he got on his face when Sam trudged away back home.

The door clicked open. John strolled out slowly, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He lumbered over to the chair next to hers, and then settled down unceremoniously, sighing loudly.

"How'd it go?"

"Fine. I told them my part and they wrote everything down. I just hope that what I say actually makes a difference for Sam."

"That's not exactly what I meant but I'm glad."

"Huh?"

She smirked, took a long sip of coffee, then grimaced at how cool it had gotten. "I meant…did you tell him you like him?"

His eyes went wide, and his mouth fell open.

"Listen…I'm not upset. I'm not disgusted. I just want to know if you did because that means I don't have to endure any of your love sick puppy looks every time he walks out of a room."

"I don't make faces when he leaves!"

She raised an eyebrow and laughed at the blush to his cheeks. _God why did all the best looking guys turn out gay?_

"Okay…maybe I do but…"

"But…"

"No. I didn't. James' father came in before I had the chance and besides…I want to tell him when it's right. Somewhere memorable and special only for us." He shook his head, "God that sounds so cheesy."

"No. It makes you sound like you care. Sam's a very lucky guy."

He shook his head this time, eyes swiveling around the room. "No. I'm the lucky one because he's in my life. No matter if he rejects me or not."

She smiled again, and slowly placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're a good guy." Then she adopted a mock frown and jabbed a finger into his chest. "And you better not forget how special Sam is because if you do mister, then you have to watch out for me."

He laughed and batted her hand away. "Yeah, yeah Sarah. Thanks. You're a good friend. To both of us."

Sam

Moonlight flooded the bedroom. They had gotten back to the house around 1 o'clock and had promptly fallen into their respective places for sleep to overtake them. He however, could not find sleep. Instead, every time he closed his eyes he thought of John's warm hands wrapped securely around his waist. He could even know feel the butterflies that had swarmed his stomach at the very contact.

God what was wrong with him. John liked Sarah. John was straight.

He closed his eyes again, and turned onto his back.

He heard the door creak open and he instinctively went rigid, sitting upright in bed with a short gasp. At first he thought it was his step-father, drunkenly stumbling into the room to beat the straight back into him. But instead, when the person in his doorway shifted into the light he found himself staring at the bare chest of John. His abs shown in the moonlight filtering in through the crack in the drapes, and he couldn't stop the blush.

"Sam?"

"John? What…what are you doing?" He wondered if John had accidently walked into his room while looking for Sarah. Not that he didn't mind seeing his very good looking friend in the doorway, looking almost hesitant to enter.

John didn't say anything though; he just quietly entered, closing the door behind him slowly after crossing the threshold. He crept silently to the bed, and he held his breath, eyes widening. Quiet surrounded them, broken only by the creaking of the bed when John finally settled down next to him.

His mouth was dry, and he wished he had taken a cup of water with him back to bed. He swallowed, then tried to speak, but only got out a "What's up…" before he was silenced by a swift kiss to his lips.

His bones melted, and he leaned in closer to John, clutching at his shoulders to keep him steady. Their lips danced together, and when he felt John's tongue begging for entrance he parted his lips. His heart was pounding, but he felt like he was soaring now, bliss filling him up.

Finally they pulled away, both panting. He lay down, resting his head on his pillow, and watched as John did the same. Though confused, he felt the stupid grin that was engulfing his face. They stared at each other for a while, until finally he was able to ask, between pants "Why…"

John smiled, and ran his thumb over his cheek in a soothing motion that left Goosebumps on his arms.

"Because…I love you Sam Goode. I've loved you since the first time I set eyes on you." His heart stopped after hearing the declaration. John loved _him_? Not Sarah? _Him_?

"Sam?" John sounded worried now. "Sam…it's ok if you don't like me back. I'm sorry for just stealing a kiss like that…I just couldn't stand to wait any longer and I thought maybe you liked me back but if you don't can we just forget this because I can't lose you—"

He shut him up with the only thing he could think of doing. He kissed him.

Finally they broke apart again and he smiled. "I love you too."

John's face beamed with happiness. Climbing under the blankets, John gently turned him and then pulled him to his bare chest, sighing in happiness. "I…I can't believe this is happening."

John just pressed a kiss to the nape of his next, squeezing him gently as he burrowed down for sleep. "You better. Because you're mine now."

And together they fell asleep.

**So hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this update. Josh has been doing a lot better since his accident, and he wanted to give this story a try first. Do me a favor and review to show your support so that Josh knows that we still care. Every review is loved and matters. Thanks so much for reading. **

**Julie. **


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